


Somewhere Hiding Underneath

by sunshinexbomb



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 01:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb/pseuds/sunshinexbomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn’s wearing a pair of his own sweats and a worn, faded t-shirt of Liam’s that’s always been a bit big on him and just seems to swallow Zayn’s smaller frame. The neckline is stretched out and slipping to the side, revealing a bright red lovebite on Zayn’s shoulder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Hiding Underneath

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at keeping up with things oops. Day five of my fluff challenge finally up. The fic for day four is in the works, I hit sort of a block with it, but it'll hopefully be up soon. The prompt was "clothes-sharing" and the pairing I picked was "Ziam".
> 
> I don't own 1D though I wish I did. Title is from "One More Weekend" by The Academy Is...

Liam wakes up cold and shivering and alone. The other side of the bed is still a bit warm and the sheets are rumpled making it obvious that someone was there not long before. Liam groans, wondering where Zayn is and how it is that he somehow managed to sleep in later than him for him once. 

He lies there in bed a few more minutes before getting up and doing a few stretches to warm up the muscles that are still stiff from sleep. Liam notes the finger-shaped bruises coloring his hips and the dull ache that seems to encompass his entire body but thinks nothing of it.

(Liam can still feel Zayn’s hands on him like a phantom touch. Can feel his fingertips gripping tight onto his hips as he rides down onto him. It’s not hard to remember the heat and the stretch and being on the delicious brink of _painpleasure_ that always seems new and exciting no matter how many times he’s felt it before.)

Before heading out of the bedroom, Liam grabs a pair of boxers off the floor and slips into them (they’re just plain white and he’s not sure if they’re his or Zayn’s but it doesn’t really matter) and pulls on a shirt that’s been discarded by door (he’s sure this one’s not his or Zayn’s and is pretty certain it’s Louis’s which is still no surprise considering their clothes all end up mixed together somehow anyway). 

The flat is filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and when he walks into the kitchen, Liam sees Zayn at the skillet making eggs. Neither of them are the best of cooks, but if there’s one thing Zayn is good at, it’s making an excellent fry-up. 

Zayn’s wearing a pair of his own sweats and a worn, faded t-shirt of Liam’s that’s always been a bit big on him and just seems to swallow Zayn’s smaller frame. The neckline is stretched out and slipping to the side, revealing a bright red lovebite on Zayn’s shoulder. 

(And Liam’s getting flashes of last night and unbuttoning Zayn’s shirt and trailing open-mouthed kisses down hot skin and leaving his mark everywhere - on Zayn’s neck, his shoulder, his collarbone, his chest and stomach and on his hip right next to the heart inked into his skin.)

“Morning,” Liam chimes, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s middle and resting his head onto his shoulder. He places a soft kiss to Zayn’s neck as he leans back into Liam’s arms.

“Hey there, Sleepyhead,” Zayn laughs, “want some breakfast?”

“Mmm, I can think of something I want more.”

Liam continues leaving a trail of kisses down Zayn’s neck going all the way to his shoulder. He bites gently at the sensitive red skin, irritating it further. Zayn makes a pleased noise, somewhere between a hiss and a moan and Liam smirks into his skin.

Zayn smells like sweat and yesterday’s cologne and the fabric softener Liam uses when he does his laundry. The scent is just as – if not more – intoxicating as the colorful drinks Liam downed yesterday at the bar they all went out to. 

(He didn’t really drink that much, just enough to get him a bit loose and limber and out on the dance floor. Liam remembers strobe lights and pulsing music and the crush of bodies and hearing Niall’s loud laugh somewhere near him.

But most of all, he remembers Zayn pressing into him and grinding their hips together and their lips slotting together because they were out and they were proud and nothing could stop them from being with each other. 

When the song ended, they left the dance floor happy and giggling and fingers intertwined. 

“Is that my shirt?” Liam asked when they sat down at the table the five of them had claimed earlier and ordered a couple of drinks.

“Think so, just grabbed something out of the closet before we headed out,” Zayn replied, looking down at the blue button up he had on. The first few buttons were open revealing sharp collarbones and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tattoos.

It’s not the first time he’d seen Zayn in his clothes. Zayn always underpacks and steals clothes from the other boys and there’s been plenty of times on break when Zayn’s stayed over at his flat, lazing around in his jogging pants or jumpers. But somehow, it felt different this time. It’s like by wearing his shirt, Zayn was showing everyone that he’s _Liam’s_ , the same way the head cheerleader will prance around in the quarterback’s varsity jacket. And Liam liked it. He wanted the world to know that Zayn’s all his, loved the proof that screams _mineminemine_. 

“Looks good on you,” Liam said, rubbing at the collar. It’s a bit big around the neck and the shoulders and it’s not as fitting as it is on Liam but it’s still perfect. “I’d really love to see you out of it though.”

Liam breathed the last part into Zayn’s ear, hand moving down to rub down his chest and across his thigh. He’s not sure what sparked this sudden _need_ to feel Zayn’s skin against his and to have him naked and panting underneath him but the urge was strong and insistent and it was obvious Zayn could feel it too.

They left the bar quickly, paying for their share of the drinks and hopping into a cab that took them back to Liam’s flat. 

Liam never did get Zayn out of that shirt – at least not at first. He left it loose and unbuttoned while he fucked himself onto Zayn and somehow that just made him come faster and harder than he probably would have otherwise.)

“You’re gonna make the eggs burn,” Zayn complains, but he still leans farther into Liam’s chest and sighs at his touch. 

Liam reaches forward and turns the stove off before turning Zayn around and pressing their lips together. He grabs Zayn’s arse, pulling him in closer and Zayn gasps when their crotches rub together. 

“You’re wearing my clothes again,” Liam says, barely moving his lips away from Zayn’s in order to speak.

Zayn catches his lips again, pressing into him harder than before. “Well I’m gonna have to do it more often if this is the reaction I get every time.”

Liam moans and moves his hands down to wrap Zayn’s legs around his waist. He carries Zayn back to the bedroom, laying him down on the bed and stripping him of everything but the t-shirt which he simply rucks up to around his armpits. Liam begins leaving more marks on Zayn’s skin to match the ones left from last night as Zayn moans and writhes underneath him.

The eggs remain forgotten in the skillet for the rest of the morning.


End file.
